His Wife
by sierendipity
Summary: He saw her from the bottom of the stairs before she saw him. If she had, he knew that she would have had his head. Hermione was adamant that Ron was not to see her before their wedding. "I'm the luckiest bloke alive."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Nothing but pure, sappy fluff. If you're looking for heavier stuff, I'll be updating "Between the Lines," soon. Meanwhile, though, something happy… **

**Thanks for all the kind words!**

**And, as usual, reviews are better than Krispy Kreme donuts.**

He saw her from the bottom of the stairs before she saw him. If she had, he knew that she would have had his head. Hermione was adamant that Ron was not to see her before their wedding. At the moment, though, he didn't give a rat's fart. All he could see was the beautiful witch before him, exquisite in a gown made entirely of ivory lace. Her hair was swept back into a loose up-do, glossy curls falling from it here and there. Aunt Muriel's tiara went beautifully well – and it was fitting. She looked like a queen.

"I'm the luckiest bloke alive," Ron murmured, just as she turned his way. He ducked around the corner, not fancying the idea of Hermione killing him on their wedding day. Once he'd waited a safe length of time, he peeked his head back out. She was nowhere to be seen so, sighing, he made his way out to the marquee.

His mum was there waiting for him looking, unsurprisingly, like she was managing the affairs of three countries. She had her artificial smile plastered to her face, badly concealing the stress beneath it. Ron smirked a little and made his way over to her.

"Lighten up, mum. Everything looks beautiful."

And it did. A decorative arch stood above the spot that he and Hermione would exchange their vows. As followed tradition, they would be married in the backyard of the Burrow, and, as it was springtime, the grounds were bursting with color. All of the flowers had been charmed light yellow, minus the daisies which Hermione had declared to be perfect.

"Oh, Ron," Molly whispered, catching a glimpse of him. To his horror, she began tearing up, fretting with his lapels, brushing off his shoulders.

"Mum, don't cry," he chided, his ears burning.

"You look so handsome," she said, and pulled him into a hug.

Once Ron felt himself getting choked up, he knew that it was time to let go. But she wasn't having it. She just held on tighter, and Ron let her. This, he knew, was the first cause for their family to celebrate in a long time and it meant the world to her. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of awe and gratitude for his mother that he knew he did a poor job in ever expressing.

She pulled back, holding him at arm's length, and when she saw his tears she completely lost it, sobbing and blubbering. She clumsily pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at his face.

"Oh Ron. If you're already crying now you're going to be a mess when you see Hermione!"

Ron blushed and, not wanting to expose the truth of his accidental previous sighting, patted her shoulder and made an excuse to get away. He headed to the archway, under which Harry was grinning in his dress robes, standing dangerously close to Ginny, the beautiful maid of honor in a pretty yellow dress.

"Hey mate," Ron muttered, ungraciously stepping between them. Ginny rolled her eyes and moved closer to Harry again, lacing her fingers through his.

"Hello brother."

"Hey Gin. Can you believe I'm getting married today?"

"You mean can I believe you managed to score girl like Hermione?" Ginny said, quirking an eyebrow, "Absolutely not."

"Aw come off it," he beamed, unable to erase the smile from his face. Ginny lost her scowl and grinned broadly, throwing her arms around him.

"Congratulations. I'm glad you two finally worked it out."

"Already congratulating ickle Ronniekins? Before he's even really sealed the deal?" George was at their elbow, leading a smirking Angelina Johnson by the arm. "Don't jump the gun now, there's still time for her to scarper off. And she will if she's as smart as I remember her."

"Appreciate that," Ron grunted sarcastically, but secretly, it made the perfect change to have this George back – a George they had missed – a George that had only recently made a reappearance suspiciously near the time that the pretty Angelina had shown up again in his life.

Minutes later, as that awful wedding music he hated began to play and Hermione moved into view, Ron felt the telltale lump in his throat. She was glowing and so bloody beautiful – so much more than he deserved. She was leagues above him, and yet here she was, looking as though she were the lucky one.

As she moved to grab onto his hands, he pulled her a bit closer than necessary and whispered, "I love you, Hermione."

She flushed prettily and mouthed, "You too."

As they exchanged their traditional vows ("Self written vows are tacky and awkward," she had said about the alternative) Ron felt the words in the deepest part of him. Suddenly the same sentiments that had forever seemed stuffy and redundant to him were exactly how he felt.

_You're a gonner._

"I do."

"I do."

They slid the rings on and, finally, Kingsley said, "You may now kiss your bride."

_Don't mind if I do._

He leaned down and obeyed the man, kissing his best friend, the smartest, most beautiful girl in the world, the one with more brains than a Ravenclaw, more goodness than a Hufflepuff, more determination than any Slytherin he'd ever known and more courage than every Gryffindor in the world and now, after too many years of him acting like a ruddy prick, his wife.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** **Why have I decided to continue this fluffy one-shot? Call it what you will – inspiration … procrastination … distraction. Whatever it is, I hope you enjoy **

Ron was exhausted. Bill and Fleur's wedding had been taxing, he remembered, and that was with the added hubbub of a whole slew of death eaters to crash the party. This – this was downright ridiculous. Pictures _before_ the ceremony, ("I want one of the boys all getting ready – one with just the brothers … one with Harry as best man with Ron … Oh, get one with Teddy now.") pictures _during _the ceremony, pictures _after _the ceremony, ("Girls only … now boys only … not all together … both grandparents … one at a time … just the bride and groom..")

He supposed that it was lucky that they had chosen today of all days to snap a million photos. Today, after all, just happened to be the one day that he could not stop smiling.

Each time he was tempted to mention the pinching stab that was currently shooting through his toes, or the fact that he could hardly breathe due to how tight the collar of his dress robes were, Hermione's hand would squeeze his or she would beam at him and he would be struck again (really struck, like stampeded by a herd of hypogriffs struck) by how impossibly lucky he had gotten.

"Hermione, what's just around the corner there?"

"What? Where? I don't see anything."

Ron tugged his irresistible wife (Merlin, would he ever stop smiling like a duffer when he thought that?) behind him.

"It's right here – something like a gnome? It's scuttling around there somewhere."

"Ron, honestly, you need to point, I can't see anythmm…"

She pulled away after a bit, smiling and pink cheeked. "That is troublesome," she murmured, sliding her hands around his neck and placing a light kiss on his jaw. He tugged her further behind the Burrow, the arm around her waist lifting her almost off of her feet.

"Mm … Ron?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" The words were sweet and satisfying to say, and by the way Hermione smiled, he thought that she agreed.

"I love you. And cocktail hour ends in–"

Ron's mouth was on hers again. "When we want it to. It ends when we want it to."

He kissed his way down her throat.

"But the announcement of th – the wedding par… party, they …" her eyes fluttered closed.

"We _are_ the wedding party, love." His fingers inched toward her hair. Instantly, she pulled away, stricken.

"What? What is it?"

"You have no idea what Audrey would do to me if you destroyed this!" she gestured to her head. Ron, holding in a snigger, moved as if to prod at it again, but she was just as fierce.

"No, no!" she slapped at his hand, then grabbed it, holding it in her own. "Let's go and let them start dinner."

"I reckon cocktail hour's still got another few minutes…"

His fingers trailed around her waist.

"No, Ron." Her voice was stern, but her eyes were sparkling.

They met up behind the wedding tent where they waited for Charlie, the host for the night, to get everyone's attention.

"Before all of the chairs and the drinks disappear to be replaced with the more subdued, boring dinner tables, I'd like to present to you the littlest brother I've got, today the luckiest bloke on the planet, and my beautiful new sister, his bride, Mr. and Mrs. Ron and Hermione Weasley!"

There was a great rush of cheering and not a few cat calls as Ron, arm in arm with Hermione, rounded the tent. Charlie, seizing a nearby glass of champagne, continued, "If I could take the chance to make the first toast of the evening – to my baby brother and his lovely bride – to the truest love I've ever seen."

Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head thinking that his brother had it right.

They took their place at the newly conjured, beautifully decorated head table, along with both of their parents and Harry and Ginny, the best man and maid of honor. It may have been his wedding, but this close to both dinner and Hermione, Ron could hardly focus on anything Charlie was saying.

Headed by Kreacher, the meal had been made by several of the Hogwarts house elves – only the ones that were willing to take payment, of course. It was delicious, but for the first time in his memory, Ron didn't care.

Instead, Ron was concentrating on deftly maneuvering Hermione's shoes off of her feet with his own. She didn't acknowledge his efforts, simply continued her first course in smiling silence.

"I can't get enough of this place," her father was telling her from her other side. Meanwhile, her foot slid slowly up his leg. He felt warm.

"Me neither," Hermione was agreeing, and Ron was amazed at how level a tone she maintained.

"It must be wonderful to live here always," Henry continued, directing this comment at Ron now.

Ron, still flushed, could only nod for fear of his voice squeaking.

"Henry, your welcome speech," Hermione's mother was nudging her husband now.

"Oh … oh yes!" He stood up, clinking his glass to get everyone's attention. Ron grinned fondly to see how flustered he suddenly was looking out at a tent full of wizards.

"Welcome, all of you. My name is Henry Granger, Hermione's father, and this is my wife, Jean. Some of you I know, some of you I don't, but I do know that you have all stood by Hermione and Ron and have been there, in many cases, when we have not been able to.

"Thank you for humoring us with a more 'muggle' formatted ceremony – it has seemed the perfect blend of two worlds, something that the joining of these two has done.

"Nine years ago, we took the biggest risk, the craziest leap of faith that we could have imagined and surrendered our only child to some place called Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We never could have done it if it weren't for the light in her eyes that told us that, even then, that she had found home.

"We cannot tell you how grateful and blessed we feel to have watched as she was welcomed by that world – her world – and this family – her family." He grinned at Molly and Arthur, who beamed back, Molly quite tearfully.

"You can imagine my hesitance, then, when the first true friends Hermione wrote to be about were boys," he continued. "However, as the years went by and Hermione continued writing, thinking she was so clever as she gave us the barest amount of terrifying detail that we could only speculate about, there was one common theme."

His eyes welled up and Ron slid his hand over Hermione's knowing that this would start her off too if she wasn't already.

"Ron – and of course Harry – were always there. Even through some of your silly trysts," Ron felt his ears reddening, "Hermione knew that when Ron was around, she was safe. She believed that, and so did we."

He turned to Ron, now. "There is no one alive that will ever be good enough for my daughter. But no one alive comes closer than you. I couldn't have given her away to anybody else."

Ron nodded, feeling tears pricking the back of his own eyes. Hermione's tears were coming quite steadily now as she beamed between the two of them.

"Don't ever forget how fiercely you protected each other in hard times when good times come around. I love you both. Thank you."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and Hermione threw her arms around her father, kissing him soundly on the cheek.

As the main course was served, Ginny and Harry both gave their speeches.

Ginny's was all teasing, something Ron preferred. "It must be true what they say, 'Good things come to those who wait,' because my brother waited _ages_ and now he's got the best girl I've ever known."

Harry's, short and sweet, was enough to make Hermione cry again. "I've never known two people more loyal, kind, intelligent, smart, brave, talented and completely hard headed about their own feelings for each other. I couldn't imagine a happier day than being here to watch them finally sort it out once and for all. To my two best friends in the world –" he raised his glass, "and to the growing of my family. Because that's who you are – my family."

Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Ginny to see how she felt about Harry calling them "his family," and she only grinned.

"To Ron and Hermione," he finished, and the crowd raised their glasses.

Ron felt the familiar knot of nerves in his stomach that he generally associated with exams and public speaking. This time, he was anxious for the latter. Hermione had no idea that he was planning on giving a speech as well, since it wasn't exactly conventional as far as muggle weddings went, but Charlie was instructed to give him a moment between dessert and the first dance.

"And now, before mum's garden becomes a shining dance floor, the groom would like to say a few words."

Hermione, who had been leaning her head on his shoulder, looked up at him, startled.

He squeezed her hand and then, shaking, stood.

"Blimey, there's a lot of you."

Everyone laughed, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. This couldn't be so bad.

"Nine years ago, I met an eleven-year-old know-it-all on my first trip to Hogwarts," those who knew their story well chuckled. "She was brilliant and, as the year progressed, I found that she was also the truest friend a bloke could imagine … for a girl anyway." More laughter.

"I watched her save me and Harry when we were almost done in by a barmy plant, and I watched when she, as a twelve-year-old, figured out the mystery that not even the teachers were sure of. She fought for the legal rights of a hippogriff and then, the next year, spent hours every day making sure that Harry was prepared for those Triwizard tasks.

"I had always known she was incredible – she amazed me every day – but I had never had a reality check quite like the one that came when I heard she was going to the ball with someone else.

"I'm not sure how long it took me after that, daft as I was, to realize that I had fallen in love with my best friend, but there was no doubting it after she walked out in those dress robes and I thought I had never seen anything prettier in my life.

"The next year, she nearly drove herself into the ground studying for her O.W.L's, but I watched her fight for house elves, round up a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts Club, tend to a baby giant and get me and Harry through our classes while she was at it.

"I've never been more scared than when she is in danger and I've never hurt worse than thinking that I had lose her forever." He cleared his throat, blinking back some ill-timed emotion.

"I've been so daft, and every time she's there anyway. I've loved her all my life and haven't deserved her for a minute of it. I never will deserve you," he turned to her, now, and felt the knot of emotion in his throat working its way up. She was crying too, hand over her mouth. It took a moment before he could continue. "I will never deserve you. But I swear I will die trying."

"I love you too, Ron. So much."

He extended a hand. "Dance with me?"

He guided her over to the dance floor as the band began playing a slow song. Pulling her close, he gazed down into her face and couldn't help but let the tears overflow again.

"Blokes aren't supposed to cry this much at their own weddings," he told her softly, to which she only grinned fondly at him.

"Most brides aren't as lucky as I am, getting to see every moment how much you love me."

He chuckled, sniffling. "I do. This is the happiest I've ever been. Blimey, I can't believe you're really not going to scarper off."

"Never."

She rested her head on his chest and he propped his chin on top of it. He thought about what had led them here – he thought of sixth year and how she'd stayed by his bed the whole time he was in the hospital wing, even after he'd been such a blighter. While they were on the run – he thought of when he'd left, unsure of whether or not he'd ever see her again and feeling like he didn't want to live if she wasn't in his life. He thought of Malfoy Manor – to this day, he had never experienced anything more hellish than the moments of her piercing, drawn out screams.

And until this day, he'd never experienced anything sweeter than the first time she'd kissed him.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, forgetting to be irritated at the sappy turn his emotions were taking. As much as he loved joking and making people laugh, if there was anyone who had always been allowed to see his more sensitive side, it was the woman cradled in his arms at this very moment.

And for so many more.


End file.
